Death of Innocence
by wildemoon
Summary: Things go very differently during "Lover's Walk" and Spike discovers a whole new side of Willow. GEN, DARKFIC
1. Slow Chains

Author: Gabrielle Collins (Gabby Spike)

Title: Slow Chains

Series: Death of Innocence #1

Distribution: Anyone who has my fic, anyone who wants it,

www dot biteyourtongue dot net slash wilde [my site]

Disclaimer: I don't own any Buffy people or the song "Crazy Baby" by Joan Osborne.

'Ship: none

Classification: drama, angst

Summary: An alternate ending to "Lover's Walk." Spike makes Willow a vampire.

Rating: R

Spoilers: through "Lover's Walk"

Feedback: to wilde at biteyourtongue dot net

_~Oh, you know you're gettin' really hard to be with_

_And you're cryin' every time you turn around_

_And you wonder why you cannot pick your head up_

_Off the ground...~_

For the first time, I almost felt sorry for him. He had lost the most important thing in his world. Almost crying, half-insane, incredibly drunk... altogether, extremely pitiful. If I hadn't been so worried about Xander, so desperate to get him help, maybe I would have tried more to comfort Spike. Maybe not. Not that it mattered. He took what he needed.

One minute he was laying his head on my shoulder, the next... I have never felt pain like that. Never. But there was something else too. My entire body felt as though it were consumed in flames but not burning. Then it got colder. And a little colder. Spike was crushing me against him. I don't think I've even been held like that before by anyone-not even Oz. It was intensely passionate, wholly possessive. I was too weak to move, or I would have embraced him as well. So much pain and so much pleasure all at once. My mind went numb and my body went limp.

He pulled back so suddenly it took several minutes for me to realize he wasn't feeding anymore. I think I reached for him... but it's all so hazy. I do know that he bit his own wrist. He mumbled something about being 'bloody stupid,' then the blood flowed into my mouth. I remember its taste on my tongue. I always thought blood tasted as it tastes when you get a paper cut and suck the wound, but it doesn't. There is much more to it. I could taste his life! Not see it. *Taste* it. Everything, every emotion or thought that made Spike who he was went into me... along with the demon.

_~Oh, my crazy baby_

_Try to hold on tight_

_Oh, my crazy baby_

_Don't put out the light...~ _

I suppose Spike knew exactly what would happen, knew the urges that suddenly began to swell inside me. He must have known. But he left anyway. "Enjoy the afterlife, pet. Stay here." And he left. I never thought I would actually *want* Spike to stay with me. But I did. I hated the thought of being alone.

For a few minutes, I just sat there. There was nothing else to do. My mind refused to work the way I knew it should. I should have been worrying about whether Oz would come and save me or if that bloody gash on Xander's head meant he might never wake up or if Buffy had told Angel she still loved him. None of it mattered to me suddenly. It seemed so *small*, so insignificant! What are things like that when you have all eternity?

It's not that I didn't try to fight it. I forced myself to look at Xander, to study his condition. I couldn't force myself to care. My best friend-not to mention the man I'd been having secret little trysts with for how long?-was lying there bleeding and I DIDN'T CARE.

No. I cared.

I cared that he was vulnerable. And bleeding. Blood looks different through those creepy yellow eyes. Like... something like what chocolate looks like to normal people. Irresistible.

Before I knew what was happening, I had leaned over, licking the drying blood from the wound on his forehead. It felt completely different than feeding from Spike-not just because of how different Xander was but because the blood belonged to a human. It was sweeter, more pure. The blood was free from centuries of pain. What happened next was inevitable. Spike must have known. I think I did as well.

Willow died that night. I live, but Willow is dead. I don't know who I am.

The minute I let the hunger overrule my last pangs of conscience and sank my fangs into Xander's throat, that was when Willow died, that exact moment. Because once his blood was inside me, I would never have considered stopping. No turning back.

Oz and Cordellia rushed in to save us then, of course. She always did have horrible timing. Cordy ran. Oz just stood there staring at what had been Willow. If there had been a shred of humanity left in me, I think the tears in his eyes would have made it shine through. Nothing happened. I didn't care about him any more than I cared about the corpse lying on the bed. I feigned an attack, forcing him from the steps and fled into the night. The darkness took over.

_~And they look at you like they don't speak your language_

_And you're living at the bottom of a well_

_And you've swallowed all the awful bloody secrets_

_But you can't tell...~_

I walked to the Bronze first. No real reason. It was just somewhere I could hide in the crowd. The smell of so many young, nubile, blood-filled people crammed into such a small space intoxicated me. But instead of making me feel better, it created some kind of gnawing pain in my gut. I looked at all the people around me having fun, living normal lives and it killed me. A few nights before, I might have been one of them.

I suppose I was wrong about losing all my humanity. Maybe I lost compassion and love and grief, but pain... pain stayed with me. So did anger. And loneliness. And boredom.

Something in me wanted to reach out to one of them, to talk like I would have talked to Buffy before. I knew I couldn't. I couldn't tell a single one of them about the wonderful, horrible thing that happened to me. I couldn't tell them that I had just left the drained body of my best friend and my heartbroken boyfriend in an empty warehouse on the edge of town. Then again, maybe I didn't want to talk.

_~Oh, you know you ought to get yourself together_

_But you cannot bear to walk outside your door_

_No, you cannot bear to look into the mirror_

_Anymore...~_

I finally gave up trying to act normal around all those happy, _living_ people and went into the bathroom. It was predictably disgusting. I realized that I had always managed to avoid going to the bathroom at the Bronze before. Funny the things that strike you sometimes. The graffiti was abundant if not original. I had seen most of the dirty limericks and scrawled confessions of love a thousand times before. I crossed to the nearest sink and, heedless of the unidentifiable filth caked on it, turned on the tap and splashed water on my already-chilled face.

When I raised my head to look in the mirror, it came as a shock to see nothing but the stalls behind me. Not even the mirror knew me anymore.

There wasn't really anything left to do. I couldn't hide in the bathroom forever. I watched an obviously-intoxicated young girl in a low-cut blouse stumble into the bathroom giggling. Disgusted, I grabbed her and fed.

By the time her foggy brain realized what I was doing, she was already near death. I dropped the body to the floor. The thud it made upon hitting the scummy tile was surprisingly quiet. I wanted the sound to be resounding, the sound of a jail cell slamming shut, not a stifled murmur. The girl's contact-blue eyes stared up at me, wide with shock, her red-stained mouth slack. She certainly picked the wrong night to go dancing.

_~And your hands are really shakin' somethin' awful_

_As your worries climb around inside your clothes _

_Oh, how long will you be sittin' in the darkness_

_Heaven knows...~_

I ended up back at the warehouse. I don't know what I expected when I arrived. Maybe ambulances and police. Certainly, I expected Buffy and Giles and Oz and Cordelia to be there. But it was quiet. I shoved open the door, almost angry at the lack of activity around the murder site. Spike sat on the edge of the bed where Xander's body had been. "They already left, luv. They took the boy."

I nodded. I couldn't think of any good reason to say anything to Spike. I still hadn't decided whether he had destroyed everything or given me a gift. Somehow, all alone in the warehouse with no one to impress, he looked like a lost little boy pretending to be all grown up. He held his hands clasped in his lap, toes turned in slightly, feet apart, head staring at the dusty floor. The leather duster and bleached hair did nothing to dispel the sudden impression that the bad-ass vampire was little more than a homeless orphan. "What ya gonna do now?"

I almost laughed. It wasn't funny. Being lost and scared and alone is never funny. But the question felt something like being asked when I was five what I wanted to be when I grew up. I didn't even know if I should stay indoors when the sun came up, if I was worth the precious gift of life. I still don't know if I deserve it. Instead of replying, I sat down beside him. It was then that I saw why his hands were clasped. They were shaking. For perhaps the first time in his unlife, Spike had done something that... that what? Scared him? Made him feel regret?

I covered his hands in mine, more to stop the shaking than to comfort him. I'd comforted him already. "I guess I'm going to live."

He nodded and tried to look calmer, more collected and without meeting my eyes replied, "Yeah, you'll live. Forever."


	2. Falling Star

Author: Gabrielle Collins (Gabby Spike)

Title: Falling Star

Series: Death of Innocence #2

Distribution: Anyone who has my fic, anyone who wants it, www dot biteyourtongue dot net slash wilde [my site]

Disclaimer: I don't own the chars or the song "What is Unwritten" from the Xena episode "The Bitter Suite," which is quoted as the opening line.

'Ship: none

Classification: vignette, slight angst

Summary: Spike tries to cope with what Willow has become.

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: none

Feedback: to wilde at biteyourtongue dot net

Notes: The opening quote is from a Xena episode called "The Bitter Suite." Just a little random trivia for you. The story was inspired by the line, "I watched the stars fall silent from your eyes" from the REM song "The Great Beyond."

_~Surrender serenity, suffer sweet misery.~_

A million tiny specs of golden light swirled around the feeding goddess, almost as if a swarm of lightening bugs were surrounding her. Of course, I knew it was only the streetlight being distorted by my blurry eyes. A week solid of drinking had failed to lighten the pain of destroying Willow, obliterating her shining innocence in one moment of drunken passion. When her dark eyes sought mine in the shadows, they were a winter storm.

"You don't need to stalk me, Spike." Her voice never changed in pitch, but I could feel her disdain. She saw me as an obnoxious tag-along, something she needed to tolerate and occasionally as someone to talk to when she could no longer stand the silence. "It isn't as if I can't sense you."

"I know, Pet. But the light 'urts my eyes."

"Hung over." Peeved, she turned away, walking down the street alone, expecting me to follow. I did. I watched the way her chin-length red hair swung bewitchingly back and forth, a crown of fire for her porcelain face and midnight eyes. If everything about her didn't threaten to kill the first person who touched her uninvited, she'd be an unparalleled beauty.

We repeated the same routine each night. She left to feed, I followed. Sometimes I fed as well, sometimes I just watched the ruthlessly random manner in which she chose her victims. Anyone who crossed her path was fair game. She fed quickly, savoring but not lingering. Then she either chose to acknowledge my presence or ignored me until I broke down and spoke to her.

Only once had the routine been broken: the night we met up with the Slayer. I watched as the petite blond stared in horror at what had been her friend, saw the light of pain her eyes as she remembered that this creature that had been Willow slaughtered her little puppy-boy. They fought briefly, but Willow soon managed to get the upper hand, slamming the Slayer up against a brick wall and slinking away. Somehow, I think not having her heart in it gave her the advantage. Willow didn't care if she lived. So she did. I trailed her back to the factory and tried to comfort her. She had thrown me half-way across the room, face twisted in anger. "Leave me the hell alone!"

I never touched her again after that unless she wanted it. She rarely did. Like I said, Willow thought about as much of me as a stray dog. "Wait up, luv." She slowed her pace almost imperceptibly and I breathed a sigh of relief. For the night, at least, she would let me in.

We walked in silence, side-by-side. I looked up into the vast expanse of sky above us. The lights of Sunnyhell only faded the canvas a little, and I could easily make out several constellations.

Suddenly one of the stars fell streaking past us, a flash of bright in the darkness. "Make a wish, luv."

Willow stared up at the sky, unmoving and unblinking. Then her head moved once, side-to-side and she looked at me, dark eyes betraying the briefest flash of pain. "No more wishes."


End file.
